Help! My Ass Is Too Phat for My Fav Skirt
Imagine, for a second, you’re getting ready for the day. It’s a typical day, except it’s not because inconvenience is waiting in the shadows to jump you when you’re the most pleased with yourself.
You play your morning house mix, your cold water with lemon is waiting for you at your desk. It’s even an easy day because you already know what you’re going to wear.
Or so you thought!
The white smock mini skirt with the frill hem you feel like you always wear, is suddenly riding waaay up in the back. Cakes on full display like this is Master Bread. Every step more revealing than the last(!!!)
A very humbling experience, but please don’t cry for me Argentina.
I got this skirt only a few years ago. A gift from a stylist/friend I work location shoots with. Nearly all my most favourite pieces are given to me or worked on by familiar hands. I think there’s something really sweet about wearing something someone you love once owned et wore. It’s like they’re saying “my story with this garment ends here, but I trust you enough to carry on its legacy.” Melodramatic, perhaps! Until we remember how much memory clothing holds!
Tbh, when I first saw it, I wasn’t moved. It’s something I would have overlooked on the rack. Not because it’s ugly. It’s the kind of skirt you’d see all over Garage or Nasty Gal. It would def come with a matching crop top that tied in the front.
You know the vibes.
Not an aesthetic that immediately grabs me, but will admit there are cute things when you look at pieces individually. It’s really a shame it no longer fits, but in more of a “don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened” kind of way.
When I first wore this skirt, I was still fairly new to this new city. She’s a little more settled in now, et has the thighs to match. The following spring/summer I was heavy in my bike girl era.
(Highly recommend aimless cycles around the city for the romance of it all.)
The woman who wore this skirt—without issue—doesn’t know the loss, love, grief, sleep patterns, extracurriculars, or the Cheeze-It Crunch addiction of the woman today.
She’s still fab though!
I’ve often tricked myself—with the help of billion dollar industries setting a thinness standard—into believing that any non-thin related change in my body is a moral failure when really, there’s more nuance than THAT.
But we forget that sometimes.
When this skirt fit, oh she had a ball, but I was also put in waaay less stressful situations, travelled less, I hadn’t felt the effects of ambiguous loss, et I hadn’t fallen madly in love. My body started responding to that et like me, she’s a diva! The bigger, the better!
Et my response to her is…pending. It changes day to day. Some days I am a crop top enforcer though, enemy of the state.
Comfort isn’t constant. Sometimes it fits you like a Hervé Léger Nia strapless et sometimes it makes you cry in the fitting room of a bra store you’ve sized out of.
You’ll have your days but no one can tell you anything about what goes on in a house they will never live in.
